Late Night Quandary
by Lady Spezz
Summary: Vash just can't figure out if the Insurance Girl in his bed is real or imaginary. One-shot V/M. M for slight language and implied innuendo.


**Disclaimer:**Yep, don't own it.

Yay, my first published fic in over 3 years. Pretty short and sweet. Enjoy.

(Oh, and my tenses are kind of erratic, but it is intentional.)

**Late Night Quandary **

Vash couldn't believe it.

Surely he must be dead.

Surely this couldn't be _real_…. could it?

But everything looked so solid, so vivid. The curves of her body were just as smooth as he had hoped. She tasted just as he thought she would. She made little mewling noises he thought only existed inside his imagination. This _had_ to be real.

He had paused with these thoughts, unable to sort out the difference between real and fantasy, and she had looked up at him in concern, her grey eyes wide. Sitting back on his heels, he examined her closely for the first time since the night began. The cool breeze floating through the window raises goosebumps on his exposed flesh, reminding him of how naked he really was.

The bed trembled slightly as she shivered, her knees rubbing together to create warmth and her hands sliding across her flushed chest. Her dark hair splayed across the pillow, exposing her slender ears with their long golden earrings, and the column of her pale neck. He noted the pulse beating in her throat, and that reassured him slightly.

Surely his mind wouldn't have taken the time to create such little trivialities when there was much more… interesting things to imagine… Interesting things such as her small rose nipples - hardened in the cool air – and the little pattern of freckles that existed only on her flat stomach. Things like the way her body seemed to shimmer in the light of the fifth moon and the way her eyes changed to lavender when his tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Vash didn`t think his imagination was even capable of such a beautiful scenario. His imagination liked to play games with him in daylight, teasing him with visions of her body stretching out of its normal white uniform. With ridiculous plot lines involving whipped cream and chocolate paint, handcuffs and lace. Hell, he didn`t even realize that he might have a thing for bondage until he saw her with her hands bound, curled up against the bar in the middle of a hostage shoot out.

No, Vash thought. If this were his imagination, things would have gone a whole lot differently. For starters, he wouldn't have blushed from head to toe in embarrassment when he came too soon. In fact, if this were a dream, that wouldn't have happened at all. Most certainly not. But he just couldn't help it, her body was too good, too soft, too smooth, too warm.

And he definitely would not have allowed her hair to get caught in the grooves of his artificial arm. His imagination would not have tolerated that.

Besides, if this was all an elaborate prank courtesy of his cruel imagination, he would have snapped out of it by now. Right?

Vash quickly looked back down at her, as if making sure she was still there. Her head was tilted in confusion, wondering what the hell he could possibly be doing, kneeling over her like this.

A stronger breeze blows in through the open window, ruffling Vash`s hair against his head. It smells of the heat of the desert, but feels like cold water. She shivers violently, as if unable to control herself. She wraps slender fingers around the edge of the blanket, thrown back against Vash`s waist, and tugs at it, as if trying to pull both the warmth of Vash and the covers back against her.

He finds himself crouching back down to her body, letting his legs slide out from under him as he pulls the blanket over. Her hands find the taught muscle of his shoulders and gently knead themselves into the flesh, relaxing it. He wraps an arm around her waist and spreads his large hand over the middle of her spine.

Vash couldn't help but notice how real it felt. How he could feel every individual plate of bone as it moved when she shifted closer to him. As if curious as to how real the rest of her spine felt, he drew the flat of his thumb down its length until it connected with her tailbone. He pressed his fingers into the grooves of her lower back and let his palm rest lower on her….

Now that _really _felt real.

She lifts her head off his shoulder to peer into his eyes. Her dark eyebrows crease slightly in a frown. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

This was a dream, a fantasy, a last chance for happiness in his dying moments, he decided. There was no way the insurance girl he knew could be capable of such a voice. She only had two tones: loud and bitchy. Seductive and breathy was definitely not one of them.

And if this was real, she would _definitely_ be bitching him out for finding him naked in her bed. Or was it his bed? He really couldn't tell, nor could he remember. This only reaffirmed his fantasy suspicion. If he couldn't remember how he got into this situation, then it most likely wasn't real.

But…

Vash did have vague recollections of what he assumed was earlier that night. Images of shedding clothes, and struggling with the many buckles and buttons of his bodysuit. The intense rush of first contact, and the creaking of the old bedsprings as they fell onto the mattress. The feeling of her hands in his hair and her legs around his waist.

And then falling asleep.

Asleep?

Was he still asleep now?

It was difficult to tell.

Fini

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